Little Bird
by threewishes6716
Summary: When Jessica Mornoe appeared in the lobby of Quantico, the BAU had no idea the scale of the case they would be getting into, and Jessica had no idea she would find so much solace in the members of its team.
1. Chapter 1

This is the only thing I have written for this story. I'd like some feedback before I continue. Please and thanks. 3

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The secretary at the front desk passed out on the floor before she could call for help. A slim girl with long dark hair came walking up only a few moments earlier completely covered in blood. Security quickly grabbed the girl, assuming she was armed and/or dangerous before the BAU was called downstairs and intervened.

Despite the time that had passed, the girl was still unresponsive. It wasn't until Derek Morgan approached her with tentative hands and a soft voice that she began to scream. Her cries echoed in the large room until Emily pushed Morgan aside and took the girl into her own arms. She quickly silenced, her eyes drying and chest slowing down.

They had pictures, clothes in evidence, and her face and hair clean within the hour. JJ put a rush on the swab from the girl's cheek and the rape kit—though they didn't really need it from the obvious bruises on her pelvis and thighs—after they put her into an interview room. She stared at the glass of Sprite, tapping it every minute or so to watch the bubbles float to the top. She laid her head down on the metal table, enjoying the cold that was spreading through her cheek.

Rossi and Hotch walked into the interview room empty handed. They had no files; she wasn't a witness. The girl didn't even have a name yet. Her head snapped up with the close of the door. Her big blue eyes widened and her breath hitched. She shook her head and backed into the corner.

Emily and JJ gave the next go, and returned with a name, age, address, and emergency telephone numbers. It didn't matter though; she said that much very surely, her family was dead. He killed them.

"He's killed lots of people. He talked about them all of the time. Do you have a crossword, word search, coloring page, chess set, knitting needles and yarn, anything? My hands need to be busy. Is it hot in here? I'm hot," Jessie ran a hand through her hair as her mouth babbled as fast as possible, and they excused themselves with a promise to bring something back.

"I don't even know where to start with this one," Emily leaned against the two way mirror.

She folded her arms and looked to Hotch who had the same stern look on his face. Morgan rubbed a hand over his face and mumbled something about seeing Garcia.

"Do you guys mind if I try something?" Reid piped up from his desk.

He grabbed a pencil and a stack of newspapers.

"Reid, she can't be around men; we've already established that," Rossi sighed and closed his eyes momentarily.

"I'm not an alpha; I thought we'd already discovered _that_," he pushed the door open before anyone could stop him.

"Hi, Jessie, I'm Dr. Reid with the BAU. I thought you might like something to do while you wait. It's the New York Times though, so beware, they get pretty tough."

She glanced up at him, down at what he'd set on the table and sighed. Her chipped, hot pink nail polish stood out against the black print.

"Do you have a pen? I prefer pen," Jessie said lightly.

He nodded and exited the room. Before anyone could speak he smiled.

Reid retrieved a pen from his desk and slipped back into the interrogation room.

The second he set the pen down, she began tapping the tip of the pen in different boxes, scribbling a few letters down every now and again. He watched for only a few moments before interrupting her.

"Who is it that killed all those people?" He asked in a voice just above a whisper.

"I called him Jack. I heard him called a variety of names from the others, though."

His eyes shifted to the glass, although not seeing anyone, they all had the same sad thought pressing on their minds.

"Jessie," he spoke softly but assuredly.

"Jessica, I think I'd like to be called Jessica actually. He called me Jessie. I don't think I want to use that anymore, please. What's your name?"

"I'm Dr. Re-"

"No," she said, never looking up from the paper, "What's your first name?"

"Spencer," he replied, eyes shifting between the window and her face quickly.

"That was," Jessica breathed in and out many times, pulling the long sleeved FBI over her fingers as far as they would go, "That was my brother's name."

"Ladies and gentlemen, get ready for some sad, sad news," Garcia stepped out from in front of the projector in the conference room.

She clicked the remote and several images appeared. A man and woman—more than slightly decomposed—gunshot wounds to the head, a pre-teen boy shot in the same fashion, all in their beds. The last was a bed with bright green sheets, empty and disheveled with a single stain of blood in the middle.

"Eight years ago today, Sarah and Jason Monroe along with their twelve year old son Spencer were murdered in their sleep. Spencer's twin sister, Jessica," a seventh grade school photo of Jessica appeared on the screen, covering some of the horror, "was never found. They were supposed to leave for a family vacation early that morning, so no one even reported the Monroes as missing for a week, so Jessica was long gone by that time. Sexual assault was presumed from the blood and semen samples found on her sheets."

Garcia abandoned any witty puns. Whether or not this was a serial killer, a girl was sitting in their interrogation room, with Reid. A girl who, statistically speaking, should have been long since dead.

Spencer appeared in the doorway at that moment, a sort of sickened look on his face, "Guys, there are others. She's writing a list down right now."

The team huddled around the window, as if watching a sick circus sideshow. Jessica flipped onto page two of the yellow legal pad, Garcia let out a sound not unlike that of a kicked dog, while Emily just gave a dejected sigh. What were they going to do?


	2. Chapter 2

Well, I have the writing bug at the moment. The Reid portion of this story will not happen for a long while, but it will be there at some point, which is why I've listed it as such. Thanks to those reading.

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The others Jessica mentioned were girls, a lot of them. Approximately five were still alive, although, she said, she hadn't seen Allie in about a week. Dead, she assumed, but couldn't quite say aloud. Jack never let her see him kill the others. She'd seen him kill some grown men, but not the other girls.

They ran away, he always said in hushed tones, but she didn't buy it. One girl did run away, five years ago, and he'd blamed her for it. It was Jessica's fault; she thought she couldn't bear seeing anymore girls taken. After the consequences that had caused,—not to mention the fact that the dumb girl had gotten herself caught, so it was a useless act of bravery anyway—she never helped another person again.

Being slow to develop, in a womanly sense, is what kept her alive for the first few years, but being obedient is what got her here. Jessica was careful, so very careful, not to lose herself to her mind during the years with Jack. Whenever she lie in her bed, feeling reality slip away, she pinched the underside of her wrist till the skin turned whiter than she thought possible, and reminded herself of the sight of her other half lying lifelessly in his bed. Even then, with her eyes squeezed shut, she doesn't remember what woke her up; it hadn't been the sound of a gunshot, no, he always used a silencer—that much she knew from deals gone wrong, the men he'd laid out on the ground. But for whatever reason, that night, she slipped through the joint bathroom, because she knew something was wrong. The creak of the door alerted the intruder, Jack, to her presence and it was only a few seconds before she turned to run and he had her pinned on the bed, face against the pillow asking how to wake up from such a disturbing nightmare.

It was no nightmare, though. She opened her eyes, wincing at the brightness of the fluorescent lights. She spun the pen between her fingers, writing a letter or two on the crossword occasionally. Jessica took a deep breath through her nose, pushing the memories of Isabella crying and screaming her name. It was the first time he'd killed in front of one of the other girls. The large man's blood sprayed all over Jessica as she shielded the younger girl. When she'd looked to Jack, his eyes glowed with an indescribable passion. It made her want to throw up, but instead she swallowed it and stood tall. She looked down when her leg began to feel warm. Izzie wet herself, another mess for her to clean up.

But Jessica held her tight nonetheless, until he put Isabella back in her room and led her to the car. She was sure this meant death. She would finally be free. Sure, she'd been on plenty of outings, never daring to speak to someone for fear it would just lead to more punishment. Head down, mouth shut. Despite all those outings, this was different. She knew days, often a week in advance, before he took her out. His _little bird_ was told nearly everything near the end of her stay. This time, however, after staring at her for many minutes of the foyer of his vast estate, he just grabbed his keys and walked to the car. Jessica was ready to welcome death. Spencer was waiting for her. She sometimes could feel him; not in a ghost sense, but in an all too real feeling, heartburn before she ended up sobbing again. She stared at her shoes, putting herself into a trance like state, doing her best to not panic, because she really did want this to come. She'd never been able to do it herself, and he was finally giving her the ultimate gift. Not clothes, shoes, sweet treats, but peace.

Her eyes were closed when he dropped her outside the large building, Quantico. He reached across, unbuckled her, and opened the door. Jessica breathed shakily, her throat burning in constriction. And he pushed her out.

She breathed several times, rubbing the fresh scabs on the sides of her hands, reliving the last hours over and over again. Isabella was still out there. So was Hannah, Madelyn, Audrey, and Allie, well, Allie was somewhere else. Better.

Jessica suddenly felt very tight. She tapped her feet, but it didn't help the sensation whatsoever. Instinctively, she looked around for windows, any source of fresh air. _Where is Dr. Reid?_ After they'd taken the notepad from her, she'd been alone with just her thoughts, a glass of flat Sprite, and the crossword. He always wanted her to be smart, the others too. She taught them everything she knew, and then they would learn together.

She leaped for the door and grabbed the handle—locked from the outside. No, no, she hadn't been in a locked room in so long. Jack trusted her. She slammed what little weight she did have against the door, chest heaving. She ran to the glass and her fists pounded furious against it. It wasn't more than a minute before Morgan opened the door and Jessica ran past him. She had no idea where she was going, or if the footsteps behind her were actually friend or foe, but none of that mattered. Nothing mattered when she made it out of a stairwell and outside. The sun was too hot for comfort and it was just a small concrete area, but she breathed it in deeply, the faint smell of cigarette smoke and stale air.

Jessica lay down on the hot pavement, limbs spread out as if ready for a snow angel. She had spent so long taking care of girl after girl and not asking questions when they disappeared. Her skin was on fire. She did always want to die. _I should have done something. _

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," she screamed.

Those words had been waiting so long to get out. Jack didn't allow such language in his household, especially not from young ladies. He made it easy to stay young, stay interesting to him, if you followed the rules.

"Jessica," JJ spoke from the doorway, shooing security guards away before stepping out a little farther and propping the door open with a stray rock.

She shielded her eyes from the unusually hot autumn sun. Jessica was so pale and still, if JJ didn't know better, she might've checked her for a pulse.

Jessica said nothing, simply stood, and slipped past JJ into the building. She didn't have anything she wanted to say. It would suit her just fine to not have to speak ever again.


	3. Chapter 3

Seven hours and thirty seven minutes. Thirty eight. Dinner time had arrived, Jessica's first real meal as a free girl—woman. She laid down on a loveseat in the modest break area. Lunch had been spent at the hospital, and the rape exam had taken away the small twinge of hunger she had before going in.

_Yesterday I was cooking spaghetti for six._

Derek Morgan walked by with a coffee mug that looked child sized in his hands. She didn't move, but that was the first time she'd smelt it: black coffee. The aroma made her audibly groan. How long had it been since she'd been allowed coffee?

"You want a cup?" He asked, gesturing to the cabinets above the coffee pot.

"Little late for coffee isn't it?" She retorted her first words to him all day, but maintained her gaze on the ground.

Morgan couldn't help but smile. He was beginning to take it a little personally. It's not as if he didn't understand; he did, but he'd grown accustomed to his ability to soothe people, make them feel protected.

"We won't be going home for quite a while, so it's time to get my second wind," he raised the glass to his lips and placed another on the table nearest Jessica.

Even after he'd gone up the short stairs to the conference room, she didn't dare touch it. Trick, it had to be. Jack always left tests for her: a cell phone, scissors, make-up, and yes, sometimes, coffee, things she shouldn't have or use without permission. He made her keep her hair long, to wear in braids usually. She chopped it off once out of spite, after maybe two months there. Jack held her down and shaved her head out of spite, then gave her a wig to wear until it grew back. Coffee was for adults. Coffee was not for girls, "It'll stunt your growth," he would laugh and say before binding her chest down.

The smell of pizza pulled her out of her thoughts. _Pizza? On a Tuesday? _Jessica's stomach rumbled, fighting against the nausea that had been there ever since lunch. She was hungry in the kind of way you are after a long bought of the flu. You're starving, but so, so afraid that if you consume anything, it'll come up and you'll be back where you started.

Garcia popped around the corner, startling Jessica again. The woman's boisterous appearance reminded her of many outfits hanging in her closet at home—Jack's house—the house.

"Hey! Hotch bought more than enough pizza for everyone, even got one with a gluten free crust, just in case," she smiled, that special Garcia twinkle in her eyes behind large two-toned glasses.

Jessica couldn't say no, literally, her mouth felt like it was filled with cement. She just nodded and stood, every step a fight. Fatigue plagued her to her very core. It took a lot to get to the conference room, but luckily, her slow pace gave the team plenty of times to do a mediocre job at hiding their case files and the grotesque pictures they contained. JJ handed her a plate with a slice as big as her head on it and smiled too widely. _Will it ever stop? _

She smiled back obligatorily, hoping it didn't come across too sarcastically or Bride-of-Chucky-esque. Truth was, Jessica was grateful for the food and the buzz of voices in the room, even if it meant they were taking a break from helping find Izzie. She shoveled almost the entire slice into her mouth before she even sat down.

Jessica backed into one of the black swivel chair and pulled her hair to one side to avoid any unwanted encounter with the sauce. The weakness she felt just minutes before caused her to sit a little less gracefully than she wanted; her butt hitting something in the seat. Jessica swallowed the bite in her mouth and began coughing from the suddenness of it all. A slight whirring noise sounded above her, and to her left, the images she'd been spared before appeared on the wall, albeit faded and discolored while the projector warmed up. The only thing she was able to focus on was the sight of Spencer, her Spencer, still, so very still, and covered in a mess of brown blood.

She lost the slice she'd just eaten, along with the little bit of fruit she'd managed to handle earlier. It didn't spew Hollywood style. Instead, there was a sickeningly long moment of silence when it was just her who realized what happened, and then her shoulders slumped slightly and vomit escaped her mouth covering her plate, a few stray papers, and part of her shirt and hair.

A gasp of horror left her mouth as she scrambled for napkins, papers, anything to clean the mess. Jack hated messes; no, worse, he didn't tolerate them. She'd seen so many girls denied meals for days simply because they were so scared they wet the bed and didn't clean it up adequately. His house was spotless, thanks in large part to Jessica. Not that she wanted the extra responsibility considering the sheer size of the main house, but she learned quickly, and it kept her in an even better position. Jack even started to let her a few PG-13 movies with him. She didn't like how those ended, the nights not the movie, but the movies created an escape for ninety minutes that was almost worth anything.

Somewhere between the projector turning on and her vomiting, Garcia had rushed to grab the remote and Emily followed to grab Jessica's arms and pull her away.

"I'm fine, I'm okay. I can clean it. I promise I'll clean it," she croaked, her eyes dancing between the screen, until Garcia got the pictures down, and her own throw up on the desk.

Jessica got sick a total of one time in the entire time she was with Jack. He'd locked her away, forcing Sophie Anne to bring in soup and crackers. No one was allowed to touch her, not even Soph. She was only allowed to open Jessica's door, place the tray in, and shut it, disinfecting along the way. So, the comforting _shhhs _coming from Prentiss as she hugged her tightly from the side made her sob harder.

It wasn't until she was in the shower, Prentiss and JJ just around the corner waiting with fresh clothes and sympathetic faces, that Jessica truly processed what was going on. Her parents were dead. Her brother, her twin, taken from her all for the sake of her play pre-teen housewife. Her cries died down. All sadness and confusion was replaced with anger; the hot water not only steamed up the mirrors, but fueled her rage.

She stepped out, wrapped so tightly in the towel JJ had given her that it reminded her of the binders she wore for so long before Jack gave up and let nature take over.

"Find him, find him now," she said to them with wet wisps of hair pressed against her forehead and fists clenched at her side.


	4. Chapter 4

There will be another chapter shortly. This one is not as long as I intended, but the breaking point felt natural. So many details in the next chapter. Keep your eye out for it. XOXO

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The exhaustion that swept over Jessica was unlike anything she'd experienced in a while. She sat at the table in the conference room after refusing to go back into her interrogation room. Morgan sat with her. He tried guiding her through her memories, but quickly realized she had no block. Jessica remembered everything, and sometimes, in vivid detail. She insisted she could draw a preliminary sketch for them. It's not as if she could see anything else when she closed her eyes. Slowly but surely, though, every time she closed her eyes, they stayed closed a little longer, and a little longer, until her hand was resting the entire weight of her head. Morgan had stopped trying to coach her and simply watched her drift away. It was the most peaceful the girl had looked all day.

Morgan went and collected the small travel pillow he kept in the side drawer of his desk guided her head down onto it. He cracked the door and kept the lights on, so as not to scare her like earlier. In his hands he held her drawing, which wasn't that great, but not too bad either. He could definitely see what she was attempting, and at least he could pass this along to the sketch artist and see if she could come up with something. Maybe it would help shorten the time Jessica needed to meet with the artist. He would try anything to shorten any amount of discomfort still had to come to the girl.

The whole team knew they had a hard, long road ahead of them. Despite the openness her captor kept with her, Jessica knew very little about the DC area, and when Hotch sat with her and a map earlier, she just panicky and couldn't even figure out which way was up. Sometimes, the more you want to help, the more pressure you put on yourself, the harder it is to _actually_ help.

JJ took a deep breath and hesitantly knocked on Hotch's door. She was all for protocol and so was Hotch, but maybe this one time they could figure something out.

"Come in," Hotch answered with a heavy voice. He promised Jack he would be home tonight, _on time_.

JJ slipped in and shut the door behind her.

"I've been speaking with all kinds of people for the last hour. Jessica isn't a minor; the state wants her to do a seventy-two hour psych eval, and then go into a halfway home for the duration of our investigation," she spoke steadily, pausing only to see if her stoic boss would reveal anything. "I just really don't think that would help anything."

"What are you suggesting?" he laid down his pen and ran a hand through his hair.

The day had taken a toll on Hotch. They had just gotten back from a case in Wyoming involving body parts being burned in front of churches, and no matter how much he loved his job, he wasn't quite ready for another extensive case so soon. Maybe he was just frustrated with himself, frustrated that he had no idea where to begin with this unsub. This man was so brazen as to have a lavish home and keep multiple young girls at the same time, but obviously good at his work or else they would have noticed him doing this for, most likely, longer than twelve years. How had they not known?

"I want her to take her home with me. Will and I just fixed the spare room in our place up. Henry goes back to school next week. Please, Hotch, help me do this."

They both knew if JJ really wanted to get it done, she could, but it would be much easier with Hotch on board.

"You need a court order, or something," he said after a long moment.

She tried holding back her smile, but it broke out across her face. This case was already hitting her, as it was Hotch, as it was them all.

"Judge Mendez owes me a few favors," JJ said so fast Hotch only really heard Mendez and favors.

Spencer Reid stood in front of the large window that looked into the conference room. Every time they worked late he made a large mug of green tea with extra honey, sat it on his desk, and then went on walk around the floor, just to get the blood pumping again. But this time, he just stood there, with his mug in his hands, which was a bit too hot to hold. He couldn't tear himself away, though.

Of all the team members, Reid was the best at keeping himself detached from the case. That's not to say he never cared—that would just be a lie. Reid just had his own way of handling the daily traumas they encountered. But as he stood here, watching Jessica sleep—her body twitching occasionally—he felt overwhelmed with anger. Cases of children were the hardest to handle. Ever since he'd learned of the case from his very own neighborhood, his ability to deal with those children and their abductions made his stomach sick. He rarely slept during those times until they found the unsub and child, hopefully alive.

Sure, Jessica was a fully grown girl, should be at least halfway through a bachelor's degree by now, but that didn't quiet the fire he felt any. No, that enraged him further. His hand tightened around the glass as some hot tea sloshed over the side and onto his fingers. Reid was beyond angry. Instead of killing her, instead of letting her go free long ago, he stole all of her teen years. Reid may not have had a normal adolescence, but he volunteered for that.

Garcia appeared at his side, seeming to have an understanding of his feelings, and some similar, albeit more passive, thoughts. She tentatively laid a hand on his forearm and whispered that she had found a few of the other missing girls' cases for the team to look over.

Reid nodded and took one final look at the sleeping Jessica.


End file.
